


Quoth The Raven

by longhairedflapper



Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: AU: Post-Veronica's fake suicide, Double suicide (kinda), F/M, Messed up romance, PIV sex but not super explicit, Sad JD, Veronica quote Poe b/c she's totes a Poe fangirl, Veronica seduces/stabs JD, idk how do i even tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:24:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longhairedflapper/pseuds/longhairedflapper
Summary: After learning about JD's plan to blow up Westerburg High, Veronica decides to take matters into her own hands.  She knows exactly how to murder JD, but can she bring herself to do it?





	Quoth The Raven

“Ah, Veronica. I wish you could be there to see Westerburg go down in flames.”  
Veronica's heart pounded against her chest so hard she worried JD would hear it. She kept repeating his words in her mind, over and over and over, as he climbed out of her window. 

Westerburg go down in flames, Westerburg go down in flames…Calm down, Veronica. Keep it together.

Suddenly, her heart jumped. Outside her door, she could hear footsteps tapping closer, closer. Her doorknob rattled, and the door swung open. Veronica forced her body to go limp and tried to ignore the way her stomach dipped as she swayed back and forth from the sheet wrapped around her body, giving the impression that she'd hung herself from her bedroom ceiling.

She fully expected to hear JD's voice again (how the hell did he get in through the front door? She wondered); instead, her mother gave a little shout of horror.

“Oh…Veronica!” she gasped. “I'm so sorry, I…I should've let you take that job at the mall, I just…oh, Ronnie!”

Veronica looked up. “It's okay, Mom!” she cried. “I'm not…god, I'm sorry. I promise you I'm okay.”

Mrs. Sawyer stared, her mouth gaping slightly, as her daughter untied herself and dropped onto her bed. 

“See?” Veronica said. “I'm fine.”

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

That night, Veronica snuck herself a cup of coffee and big, sharp knife from the kitchen and hurried up to her room, taking care not to make too much noise and wake her parents. She wrapped the knife in a pillowcase and placed it carefully in her backpack. Then she rummaged through the bottom drawer of her dresser and pulled out the most beautiful piece of clothing she owned: a satin slip dress the color of blood. She relished the cool silkiness of the fabric as she slipped it over her naked body, and posed of herself in front of the mirror, admiring the way the vibrant color contrasted with her pale skin and dark hair. She didn't dare look too long though. The slip, while undeniably gorgeous, looked like something Heather Chandler would've worn. Veronica had a sudden vision of herself prancing down the hallway of Westerburg, a smug smile on her face and a familiar red scrunchie in her hair. She pushed away this thought as unnecessarily disturbing. For now, she needed to focus. 

She sat cross-legged on her bed, sipping coffee and scribbling in her favorite journal.

Dear Diary,  
I'm adding another body to my teen-angst induced body count. I know Westerburg is terrible, but I can't believe that JD's way is actually going to solve anything. If I just let him live, everyone will die: Betty, and Martha, and Heather McNamara. Everybody.

She paused and thought of JD wrapping his arms around her after he rescued her from Kurt and Ram, the way he'd stroked her hair and soothed her, promising he'd never let anyone hurt her ever again. She bit her lip and continued writing.

The problem is, I don't want to. I want to hug him and kiss him and tell him that he doesn't need to do this, that we have each other and as long as we have each other everything will be okay. But I'm not stupid. I know that's never going to be enough to stop him. So you see I've got to do this. I don't have a choice.

A water droplet splashed the page, smudging the ink. Veronica rubbed at her eyes and tried to hold back the flood of tears that longed to burst forth. Not now, she told herself fiercely. There'll be time for tears later. For now you've got to focus.

She glanced at the numbers on her digital alarm clock, which glowed a faint blue and announced that it was half past eleven. Her parents were definitely asleep by now, and if she didn't act soon it would be too late. Veronica rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to quell the goosebumps that shivered on her skin. 

She threw on an old hoodie and her sneakers, which felt strangle large on her bare feet.   
Usually she wore them with socks, and she hadn't worn them at all that spring. The Heathers didn't approve of sneakers. She slung her backpack onto her back and, taking care not to fall, climbed down the tree that helpfully grew its branches outside her window.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

JD's house was only a couple blocks away from hers, and she walked quickly. The night air was brisk but not uncomfortably cold. The sky was clear, and a million diamond stars twinkled above her. Veronica remembered her father telling her to keep an eye out for shooting stars, as they were supposed to bring good luck. She would've liked a shooting star right about then, as she figured she needed all the luck she could get. She didn't see one though, and she couldn't sit outside in JD's backyard all night stargazing.

She climbed up the trellis next to JD's bedroom window, leaning her weight against it so it wouldn't tip over. She couldn't help but smile to herself; she'd always thought it kind of funny that Bud Dean would have a rose trellis.

JD was sitting at his desk, feverishly toying with a bundle of wires and what looked like a remote control. He looked up when he heard a tapping at his window, and his face turned the color of cottage cheese.

Veronica watched him move his lips, and although she couldn't hear him through the glass, she could tell that he was saying her name. She remembered the first time he'd said her name, the way he'd choked it out as he came, and she forced herself to swallow the lump in her throat.

She tapped on the glass again, and JD hurried to open the window. 

“Quoth the raven, nevermore,” she quipped. “Can I come in?”

“V-Veronica,” JD stammered. “That's impossible. You're…you're dead. I saw you, you were dead!”

Veronica shook her head. She took off her backpack and shoes and sat down on a corner of his unmade bed. “I knew you were going to kill me,” she said. “So I rigged a sheet to look like I'd hung myself. I'm not as dumb as I look.”

“You don't look dumb,” JD said. He stared as Veronica removed her hoodie. “You look…”

“Do I look good?” Veronica asked.

JD nodded. “More than good,” he gulped. His face flushed, and he ran his tongue over his lips. Veronica couldn't help feeling a shiver of excitement herself. She liked to turn him on like this, to tease him a little. She liked knowing that she had power over him, however small. In another moment she was in his arms, and he was kissing up and down her neck and shoulders, licking and nipping at her skin.

“I've been thinking a lot since you left,” she murmured, fighting to keep a clear head. Focus, Veronica, she reminded herself. Focus. “And I realized you were right. I'm so, so sorry, JD. I want to help you.”

“Oh, baby,” JD whispered against her neck. His breath tickled, and she moaned a little in spite of herself. “I knew you would. You don't know how much you mean to me, Veronica. I'd do absolutely anything for you.”

Veronica pulled away from him ever so slightly and gazed into his eyes. Those sharp, eager, hungry eyes. How she would miss them.   
“Then love me,” she said.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

JD was rougher than usual that night. He pushed up her skirt, still pressing his mouth greedily to hers, and thrust into her, muffling his grunts with her lips. 

Veronica clung to his bare back, scratching at his skin with her nails and struggling to keep her moans at least somewhat quiet. The heat inside her was building so quickly, and he felt so hard and big inside of her, and her orgasm was jolting and strangely energizing. Normally she felt relaxed and sleepy afterwards. 

JD, on the other hand, seemed worn out. He leaned back against his pillows, a satisfied smile on his face. “God, I needed that,” he sighed.

“Why don't you leave the rest of your project for tomorrow?” Veronica suggested, petting his dark hair. She loved the way he looked just after sex: his normally keen eyes were soft and sleepy, and he seemed so vulnerable and gentle. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and soothe him to sleep.

“Oh, the bomb?” JD asked. “It's finished, actually. All that's left to do is send Westerburg up in flames.”

Veronica forced herself to smile. “Will your dad check in on you in the morning?”

JD shook his head. “Nah,” he said, stifling a yawn. “He always leaves for work pretty early. I usually don't see him until dinnertime. Sometimes not even then. You wanna stay the night?”

Veronica snuggled up to him and rested her head against his chest. “I'd like that,” she said.

They curled up together underneath the blankets, their arms and legs entwined and their chests touching. Veronica felt JD's heart thumping against her's and listened as his breathing grew slower and deeper, eventually turning into soft snoring. He always insisted that he didn't snore, and she'd given up trying to convince him a long time ago. 

This is the last time we'll do this, she thought. She thought of all the charred skeletons lying in the ruins of Westerburg if she failed, if she was too soft. No, this had to be done. 

She slowly disentangled JD, taking care not to wake him. He moaned and stirred a little in his sleep, but he didn't wake up. He'd always been a deep sleeper.

Shivering a little in the cool air, Veronica took the knife out of her backpack, letting the pillowcase wrapper float to the ground. The knife gleamed in the dim moonlight, sharp and bloodthirsty, and Veronica could see her reflection in its stainless steel surface. She looked every bit the femme fatale, with her red slip and tousled dark hair, but she felt like a frightened child who'd lost her mother. JD, she realized, had seen something in her. Something dark and gross and ugly, certainly, but it was something she'd never been able to show anyone else. He'd seen her at her most vengeful, her most angry, her most petty, even, and he'd loved her. And damn it, she loved him too.

She stood over him, knife poised, breath held, and she thought of all the times he'd kissed so gently yet passionately, all the times he'd comforted her, all the times he'd killed for her. But then she thought of Betty Finn, and Martha Dunnstock, and Heather McNamara, and she plunged the knife down into his stomach.

JD jolted awake, his eyes wide with pain, and Veronica pressed her hand to his mouth to stifle his screams. He stared at her as the blood welled up in his wound, and tears streamed down his cheeks. Veronica was not prepared for this. She'd expected fury, hatred, anything but the betrayal written all over his face. It twisted her heart and sickened her to the very core of her being, and she knew, suddenly, that she couldn't leave him to die here alone. She must die with him. 

“I'm sorry, Jason,” she said softly. “But you see I had to. I couldn't just let you kill them all.”

JD's face twisted into a grin, and she cautiously removed her hand to his mouth. It was smeared with sticky, crimson liquid, and she realized that he was bleeding from his mouth. 

“Oh, Veronica,” JD said, choking a little on the blood. “You got me, didn't you? I apologize. I underestimated you. Now tell me: what do you plan to do with the rest of your life?”

Veronica shook her head. “There's not going to be a rest of my life,” she said. She ran her hand over his forehead, which was damp with sweat. “Tell me how to work this bomb of yours.”

JD tried to shake his head and winced at the pain. “No,” he said. “I can't…God, Ronnie, I can't let you do that.”

“What?” Veronica said. “You'd blow up a whole school but you won't let me fucking die with you?”

“I love you,” he replied. “God dammit Veronica, I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said. “So just let me go with you. And let me take your bastard of a father with you.”

That seemed to spark something. JD's eyes gleamed, and his lips twisted into a sort of smile. “Big red button,” he said. “It's as simple as that. Not very subtle, I know, but then neither is blowing up a school.”

It took Veronica all of two seconds to set off the bomb. Strange, she thought, that it should be so easy. 

She lay down beside JD and put her arms around him. With a painful effort, he touched his lips to hers, and the metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth. They shared one last, gentle kiss as the seconds ticked down around them.

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah I was bored and just wanted to write sad JD/Veronica shit. I seriously love these two so much, but in a very "This is hot but there's no way it would ever turn out well" sort of way. Anyway, I hope you guys liked it!


End file.
